


The Same

by wookieefucker



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, M/M, Masturbation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wookieefucker/pseuds/wookieefucker
Summary: Rocket was methodical in his search. He checked the access port to the ventilation shaft in his room. He looked under the bed. He even checked through his clean and dirty laundry. Groot was nowhere in his room.Rocket breathed out a sigh of relief.





	The Same

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely couldn't tell you where this came from. It has nothing to do with my other Raccoon Sex fic, it's just a one-off. Kinda sexy, kinda sad. I hope you enjoy lol

Rocket was methodical in his search. He checked the access port to the ventilation shaft in his room. He looked under the bed. He even checked through his clean _and_ dirty laundry. Groot was nowhere in his room.

Rocket breathed out a sigh of relief. He pulled his comm off his wrist, tossing it onto his desk, a messy thing loaded with a mixture of papers and datapads, odds and ends he’d been tinkering with, and coated in a fine film of grease. Rocket pulled his ratty undershirt over his head, shucking off his jumpsuit where it had been tied around his waist.

He’d been in the engine room with Kraglin just before this, clambering around in the tight spaces and helping with little tune-ups. They’d just left Stakar after a meet-up filled with praise for Yondu that left a sour taste in Rocket’s mouth. The look he’d shared with Kraglin showed that the feeling was mutual. Yondu was fawning all over Stakar and his old buddies, it was like none of them existed anymore. Even Quill was having a hard time holding his attention.

There really wasn’t anything to be done in the engine room. Rocket had wandered in there, mad at nothing justifiable, and mad at himself for it, and he’d seen Kraglin’s enormous feet and gangly legs shoved out under the bottom of one of the bigger pieces of equipment in the room.

Kraglin had been cursing to himself, clanging around under there, and Rocket had kicked softly at his foot. They’d been bonding since the moment they had dragged onto the ship and breathed life back into him in a panic until Gamora assured them that he was stabilized, and Mantis touched him, whispering through tears that he was still aware in there. The two of them had shared a look and seen the same things reflected, and from there a kinship was born. Rocket wondered if Kraglin was in his bunk doing this, too.

‘This’ was a slow and smooth rub at his slit, urging his cock out and to hardness. It didn’t take much – he’d been wet since the engine room.

The two of them had worked in silence for a while after Rocket had announced his presence by kicking one of Kraglin’s heavy boots and said, “Should’ve figured you’d be in here.”

“Not like we’re needed anywhere else,” came the bitter response, and Rocket had snarled then, but then he had sighed, ears lowering until they lay flat against his head. Kraglin had handed him a wrench and he’d got to work, doing stupid maintenance until he could stand to be around other people again. Until they could stand to be around Yondu again.

“It’s like he don’t even know,” Kraglin had bitched one night, drunk and angry as he and Rocket sat in the cockpit and steered them around anything that could cause damage to the ship. He’d sighed then, and scratched the side of his face, taking another swig of the rotgut he’d dragged out before passing it to Rocket again.

Rocket watched the liquor swish around in the green bottle lazily before extending a hand and taking a pull for himself. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, and laughed. It was a bitter and sarcastic thing, and he’d replied, “You think the sun knows we need it for warmth?”

For everything that had happened between Yondu and Kraglin, they’d never fucked. Yondu had a reputation to upkeep, and Kraglin couldn’t risk anyone thinking he’d fucked his way to first mate. “He pro’ly don’t even know how’s I- how I feel ‘bout him,” he’d told Rocket morosely as they sat under a tree on Xandar. It was a sunny day, and Quill and Gamora were filling Nova Prime in on the Ego situation. Drax and Mantis had gone to a bar, and Yondu was off with Stakar and Martinex, chumming it up as the favored son he was again.

Groot was chasing a butterfly that was three feet away from them, and Rocket eyed him with interest before deciding that he was fine and nodding. “At least you’ve got his friendship. I’m just the freaky friend of his kid that he feels sorry for because I’ve been through some shit.” He snarled when Kraglin reached a hand out and rested it on his shoulder, but he didn’t make him take it off.

That had been months ago. Kraglin and Rocket had become close, and Quill was weirdly jealous. As if Rocket could have another best friend. Nah, Kraglin just understood what Quill couldn’t, that was all. They’d hung out a lot since then, and had a routine they fell into when they worked together. It was easy, and if they both weren’t so in love with the same someone else, Rocket could see them working well as a couple. Neither one of them wanted to be the consolation prize, though. They were also both too dominant to be willing to give a little and try. Still, they made a good pair.

Yondu had walked in while they were sharing a drink after finishing what little they could do. How he managed to look like he was gliding everywhere, Rocket had no clue, but it was suave and alluring in a way that they were both into. He’d stomped heavy, before, clanking his boots down hallways, using all the intimidation factor that he could muster to scare his crew into submission. It wasn’t needed any longer, and just that little fact gave Kraglin a thrill of joy, even as he felt a pang of guilt for his part in the mutiny. Rocket met his eye and nodded. He knew what was going through his head.

He had stopped to chat then, and Kraglin had been near-blatant about staring Yondu up and down. Or maybe it was just that Rocket knew what to look for. Yondu definitely didn’t seem to notice. Anyway, his black eye had been healing nicely, Rocket noted, and the bruising was a really fetching shade of navy. He wondered if that’s the color Yondu turned when he was aroused.

Rocket and Kraglin’s eyes had met as they realized they’d been having somewhat similar thoughts, and Yondu had wandered away after Quill with a shout of, “Boy! You been behavin’ while I was gone?” They’d made their excuses to each other and here Rocket was. Jacking off in his bed to thoughts of Yondu like some sort of perverted freak.

He pinched at the tip of his cock and let out a small moan, thinking about that pretty navy color. He wondered what it would take to make Yondu turn that color all over. Rocket may have been small, but he had all kinds of interesting augmentations that gave him a strength and power that most couldn’t even guess at. He wondered what it would take to make Yondu want to guess at it.

Rocket closed his eyes and reached under his pillow, pulling out a torn strip of fabric. When they’d first pulled Yondu in from the vacuum of space they’d ripped his clothes off, desperate to get to his chest and determine if his lungs had exploded in the rush out of the atmosphere. Luckily for everyone they hadn’t, and in the scuffle Rocket had snatched up a scrap of Yondu’s scarf. He didn’t meet Kraglin’s eyes as the other guy had discreetly shoved a hand into his pocket.

Now that scrap stayed under his pillow, even though it was losing its scent more and more daily, it was the principle of the thing, or whatever. Rocket shoved the scrap against his nose, breathing in musk, and grunted as he wrapped his fist around his dick and pulled. He wanted to smell that for real. He wanted to breathe in the scent of an aroused and helpless Yondu as Rocket held him down and did all kinds of wicked things to him.

He wanted to start small, but with something to prove that he could do this. Yondu wasn’t the type to just roll over, no matter that Rocket could tell he wanted it sometimes, in the way that he reacted to things. He supposed that was animal instinct providing him with that insight. No, Yondu needed to be shown that someone could take care of him, and was willing to, before he’d even consider going ass up.

Rocket wanted to show him. He wanted to shove Yondu down and bite his neck, leaving marks that were good, marks that showed ownership. He wanted to say “stay,” and know that he would be obeyed. He wanted to get his dick inside whatever the hell Yondu had going on down there and fuck him hard until he was flushed that pretty navy and begging like a whore for Rocket’s dick every day of his life.

Rocket was rubbing at his dick frantically now, and he pictured it – Yondu sprawled out on his back, legs up and splayed wide, feet planted on the bed, and Rocket right there, hammering into him as he begged for it. Rocket came with a shout, the scrap of fabric still pressed to his snout.

He laid still a while, come cooling into a sticky mess on his stomach, and he grimaced. He groomed himself before it could dry entirely, but it was unsatisfactory. He carefully tucked the piece of fabric back into his pillowcase and sighed, slipping his dirty clothes back on. He made his way to the communal showers, hoping he didn’t run into Yondu on the way. He didn’t think he could face him just now.


End file.
